The massive dining room of House 45 is a study in dissonance.
Above us, a crystal chandelier hangs from a vaulted ceiling painted with cherubs and clouds. Below it, sprawled across the polished mahogany table is a tactical map of Verion. It is stained with coffee rings and marked with aggressive red lines.
The new Task Group for Strategic Command is gathered around it.
Eleven of us. Seven Awakened and four Markless.
We stand in the opulent silence, the air heavy with tension as Lieutenant Colonel Aric Caldera stands at the head of the table. He has shed his cape, revealing the full extent of the spiked chain tattoo wrapping around his thick neck. His charcoal grey eyes are hard, focused, darting between the map and our faces.
I am standing to his right. My face is stretched into what I hope is a mask of calm indifference. My arms are crossed, my back leaning against the heavy oak sideboard. I attempt to look bored. I pray I look like I've actually done this a thousand times.
Inside, I am screaming.
I was briefed earlier by the Colonel in private, before the others arrived. I know the mission and I scathingly think, that this is a suicide mission and we are being sent to be ground into fucking dust.
We are not a spear or a scalpel as the General put it. We are bait. We are a shiny object being dangled in front of a hungry beast so the real hunters can circle around the back.
"Listen up," Caldera growls, his voice rasping like a file on steel. "Strategic Command has given us a designation. From this moment forward, this unit is Code Name Helix."
He pauses, letting the name settle.
"Helix," Lopez rumbles, his strawberry-red eyes narrowing. "Lame to be named after a spiral"
"We are named after the structure of life," Caldera corrects."
A few of the soldiers chuckle nervously. Vihaan just grins, grabbing his karambit on his belt buckle and tossing it in the air.
"As for individual call signs," Caldera continues, eyeing Vihaan, "you don't have them yet. You haven't earned them. You want a name? Well this a good time to earn it."
He leans forward, placing his knuckles on the table.
"OPORD Briefing starts now," he announces. "And for the love of the Gods pay attention, because I'm not repeating myself."
I shift my weight uncomfortable with what is most likely impending death.
He taps a section of the map about eighty miles east of Grevona.
"For the terrain," he says. "We are looking at flat lowlands. Scrub brush. Scattered tree lines. Rock outcroppings. No significant elevation changes where we are going. It's killing ground. Long sightlines and little cover."
He gestures to the window, where the sky is a beginning to darken.
"Weather is turning. Meteorologists report a low-pressure front moving in from the coast. Expect heavy cloud cover a little after dusk when we step off. Rain is also projected to hit around 0200 or 0300 hours. Visibility will be shit but that actually works for us."
He looks at Imara, then at Sola.
"Civilians are going to be present," he says, his voice hardening. "Intel suggests the town is still occupied by locals who couldn't evacuate in time. The ones who still draw breath are under Federation martial law. Which means they are slaves."
He pauses, making eye contact with every single one of us.
"We are to ignore them. Disregard them. They are not the priority. If they get in the crossfire, they get in the crossfire. We are not here to liberate; we are here to liquidate. Do not compromise the mission to save a local."
Imara flinches slightly, her hand tightening on her pendant. I keep my face blank. It is cruel, yes. But in a stealth op, mercy is a loud noise.
"Enemy Forces," Caldera continues, tracing a red circle around the town. "Intel is spotty, but we are estimating between one hundred and fifty to three hundred markless Federation soldiers. Standard infantry, heavy weapons squads you know the drill."
He looks at me.
"And at least seven Enemy Awakened in this town and the surrounding 2-3. Maybe more." They will be able to cover ground to reinforce their allies quickly and we do not have any info on their powers.
The room goes silent.
Three hundred soldiers. Seven Elites. Against Eleven of us. How lovely
"Friendly Forces," Caldera finishes the section. "None. Zero. We are operating eighty miles deep. No backup. No artillery support. No cavalry coming over the hill. We are on an island."
I look at the map. The red circle looks like a mouth waiting to swallow us.
"Next is the Mission," Caldera says, moving his hand to the town itself.
"The target is the town of Oakhaven and again the surrounding towns next to. Roughly Eighty miles east of us."
He draws a line with his finger from Grevona to Oakhaven.
"We need to move fast. Sola," he looks at the lanky woman with the electric yellow eyes.
"Yes Sir," she responds, her voice buzzing with energy.
"You will assist the markless soldiers," Caldera orders. "Use your Gale Mark and make sure they keep up with our pace. We need to cover eighty miles on foot and we do not have time to waste with their human pacing. We need to be there by the time the rain has started."
Sola nods. "I can do that. But it'll drain me to carry them that far and long while running."
"Just get them there," Caldera says dismissively.
He looks back at the map.
"The Mission is simple," he says. "We are to eliminate most, if not all, enemy troops in the surrounding town. We need to launch this attack ASAP."
He looks up, his expression grim.
"Strategic Command is launching a massive offensive directly north of Grevona in abut 24-48 hours hours," Caldera explains. "They want to start pushing for the main crystal mines in the canyon range. They need the Federation to look East. They need them to think we are flanking toward the coast and towards Aubermans as the first main city we wish to retake. The current plan is for us to make a mess in Oakhaven, draw some of their reserves, and make the path for the main army in the North a little easier."
He looks at us.
"We are the bait," he admits openly.
He moves on.
"Next up on is the Execution," he says.
"Stageic commands Intent," Caldera states firmly. "Is to wipe out the enemy. Total neutralization of the enemy in the area. I agree with their assessment, they are the invaders it's harder for them to maintain their positions. he continues. "We move as a single column with rapid insertion. We will hit their patrols on the outskirts first. Then we push into the town and wipe out the enemy."
He nods to me.
"First Lieutenant Daath will move ahead of us as our scout and vanguard."
I nod.
"He can see in the dark better than all of us," Caldera explains to the group. "And he has illusions to make himself invisible. He will be able to get the drop on any enemy patrols and scouts."
I feel the weight of the responsibility. If I miss a sentry, we all die and I'll for sure be the one to die first. What a drag.
"Now your tasks," Caldera muses.
He points to the older man, Rook.
"Rook," he says. "Gather any materials you need for mayhem. I want the biggest booms you are authorized to make. I want structures collapsing. If they have a command post, I want it turned into a crater. Make it look like a battalion hit them, not a squad."
Rook grins, a scary expression that reveals yellowed teeth. "Music to my ears, Colonel. I'll pack the SDC the seigers issued me no prob."
Caldera points to the blonde girl
"Ivy," he says. "You are logistics. Gather materials for at least two weeks preferably longer if you can manage it. Rations, water purification, tents, medical supplies. We are packing heavy."
Ivy frowns slightly. "Two weeks? For a distraction raid?"
"We may be deployed again following this mission," Caldera says, his voice leaving no room for argument. "If we survive Oakhaven, we probably don't come back to Grevona right away they would defeat the purpose of our entire TG. Im quote confident they will instruct us to push deeper. We stay behind the lines. So pack for the long haul."
Ivy nods, her face serious. "Understood. I'll raid the depot."
Caldera looks at Hudson, the skinny comms specialist.
"Hudson," he says. "You stay out of the fighting if you can help it. You are the only Amulet expert here so we may need that expertise for some reason and I'm not losing our ability to contact Stageic command because you get yourself killed."
He pauses.
"You are also the only 'trained healer' among us, even if you have no mark. So keep your medkit stocked."
I smirk slightly, glancing at Lucian.
Hudson is a field medic, sure. He knows tourniquets and morphine. But Lucian? Lucian is a walking regeneration engine.
His mark, I think again, feeling the silver thread in my mind. Passive healing buff. Shared vitality.
It is the strongest utility mark on the planet. Hudson can stitch a wound; Lucian can make the heal boosting the natural healing process turning lethal wounds just into bruises and some slight pain. Not as good as an actual Awakened with a healing mark but still I am glad my friend is here. Although if I could just find the trigger for my regenerator mark I wouldn't need anyones assistance.
"Yes, sir," Hudson stammers, looking nervous.
Caldera looks at the spy, Max.
"Max," he says. "I have no special task for you on this one. Fall in and help with the fighting as you are trained to do. Just kill."
Max nods, his face forgettable and blank. "Understood."
Caldera nods pleased.
"Timeline is set for immediately following this meeting. You have roughly one hour to prep your gear. We step off at 1830 hours."
He moves to the next section of the brief breezing over it.
"We carry what we need. No resupply is coming. Check your weapons. Check the gear you bring with you. Then check them again. And again.
He looks around the room, his eyes dark.
"Also no POWs. We don't have the manpower to guard prisoners. If they surrender, you stab them. If they run, you stab them. We are here to reduce the enemy headcount. Clear?"
"Clear," the room murmurs.
I see Imara close her eyes and mutter a silent prayer. I see Vihaan lick his lips.
Caldera finishes.
"Only use the Amulets for an emergency, I will only call one of you if are split up and I need to give you orders."
He straightens up, his leather armor groaning.
"Hierarchy is as follows: I am Commander. First Lieutenant Daath is XO."
He points to Sola.
"Sola is third in command. If Daath and I go down may the gods bless you poor bastards, she calls the shots. You follow her orders as if they were mine."
Sola straightens, looking surprised but pleased. Her yellow eyes flash.
"Understood, Colonel."
I glance at her. An Air mage as third in command. It makes sense. She has the mobility to retreat if things go south. She can get the survivors out.
Caldera looks around the table one last time.
"This is it, Helix," he says. "We are the first of our kind. A mixed unit. An Elite unit. The King is watching. The General is watching."
He leans in, his voice dropping to a growl.
"Don't embarrass me by dying."
He slams his hand on the table.
"Dismissed. Get your gear."
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The staging area in the foyer is a flurry of activity.
I stand near the door, adjusting the straps of my chest rig. I have swapped my Academy uniform for the standard issue black tactical gear of the Task Group, though I kept my own boots. They are broken in.
I check my sword. The blade is clean, oiled, and razor-sharp. I slide it back into the scabbard on my hip. I check the daggers at my belt.
Across the room, Rook is carefully packing blocks of grey putty into his rucksack. He handles the explosives like they are loaves of bread.
"Is that enough SDC to level a city block?" I ask, walking over to him.
Rook looks up and grins. "Give or take, Lieutenant. Combined with the shape Bangalores I have? We could probably wipe the entire town off the face of the planet if I can set it all up"
"Good, Good" I say. "I've never seen explosives before"
Rook looks at me, his bushy eyebrows knitting together in genuine confusion.
"You've never seen SDC?" he asks.
"SDC?"
"Siege Demolition Compound," Rook clarifies. "Standard issue for heavy breaching. Don't they teach that at that fancy Elite Academy?
I shrug, keeping my face neutral.
"Perhaps," I say. "But I didn't get to that year."
Rook frowns a little, processing the fact that his superior officer is a dropout, then he shrugs.
"Well, the shit is hard to come by anyway," Rook grunts leaning back. "The Seigers that's the department of the Army that controls Siege Machines and the explosive research guards the deployment of it almost religiously. They're tight-fisted bastards."
He taps his scarred fingers on the table.
"They are constantly trying to streamline the creation of a chemical called mercury fulminate," he explains, his voice taking on a technical edge. "It's the primary detonator, but it is difficult to manufacture safely. Unstable as hell. One wrong mix and the lab goes up."
He lowers his voice slightly.
"And for the Siege Machines and the 'City Crackers'? They need Tritium. And Tritium is exceptionally rare. So, we make do with what we get."
I stare at him. Mercury fulminate? Tritium? I have no idea what he is talking about. These are words from a science I haven't touched.
Rook sees my expression the slight furrow of the brow, the blank look in my eyes and he stops.
He grins sheepishly "Anyways, sir," he continues "You'll get to see some bangs soon."
I chuckle and move on allowing him to finish packing.
I look over at Ivy. She is struggling with a massive pack that looks twice her size. It is stuffed with dried rations, water bladders, and rolled tents.
"Need a hand?" I ask.
She looks up, blowing a stray hair out of her face. "I got it, sir. Just... balancing the load."
"Don't call me sir please" I say "Ayato is fine. Sir makes me feel like an old man."
She pauses, then smiles. It is a genuine smile, warm and bright. And I get the sudden feeling that earlier she thought I was going to be an egotistical freak.
"Ayato," she replies. "Alright then. I'm Ivy."
I nod, feeling that stupid heat in my neck again. I turn away quickly before I do something embarrassing like smile back.
I find Lucian and Vihaan near the weapons rack.
Vihaan is loading magazines for a repeater crossbow. He looks way to calm.
"You ready?" I ask.
"I was born ready," Vihaan says. "Three hundred soldiers, Boss. That's a target-rich environment."
"It's a mob," I correct. "Don't bite off more than you can chew my good man."
Vihaan shrugs. "Mobs just mean more blood."
Lucian looks at me. He is smirking amusement dancing in his eyes.
"This is crazy, right?" he aks. "Running eighty miles to fight an army?"
"Completely," I agree. "But at least it should be exciting!"
"Really you think so?" Lucian asks.
"Maybe," I say. I would say fighting for your life is pretty exciting wouldn't you?"
"Freak," Lucian mutters.
"You love it," I say, clapping him on the shoulder.
"ATTENTION!" Caldera's voice booms from the stairs.
We all turn.
The Colonel is standing on the landing. "Time to go," he says.
We file out of the mansion. The sun has set, but clouds are gathering on the horizon, dark and bruising. The storm the Colonel told us about is indeed coming.
We move through the streets of Grevona.
We reach the Eastern Gate. The guards salute us as we pass.
Caldera stops. He looks at Sola.
"Wind up," he orders.
Sola nods. She steps to the center of the group. Her yellow eyes glow.
She raises her hands.
A gust of air surrounds us. It isn't a violent gale. It is a steady, pushing pressure against our backs. It feels like walking downhill, even on flat ground.
I feel lighter. My heavy pack feels like it weighs nothing.
"Move out," Caldera commands.
We start to run.
With the wind assisting us, we move at an impossible pace way faster then even a normal awakened could manage on their own just relying on their augmentation from awakening.
I take the lead, moving ahead of the group leaving the wind behind as I push forward about 5-10 miles from the rest of the group.
I tap into the Fearmonger and The world shifts to greyscale. As it does I like usual feel my emotions dim.
I scan the horizon. Nothing but rocks and grass.
But somewhere ahead, in a town called Oakhaven, three hundred men are breathing their last breaths, and they don't even know it yet. Death is coming for them.
The voices in my head begin to hum a low, discordant tune.
I run.